I heard no larks sing at her age.
They put me in the field to earn a wage
And be some use in the world.
(To girl.)
What! Dawdling yet?
I’ll lark you in a way you won’t forget,
Come forty winters! Speak! What do you mean?
Girl
(Still staring at the window and speaking dreamily as to herself.)
Up from the valley creeps the loving green